


温もり ; NUKUMORI

by momoboshi



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Oneshot, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, slight nsfw, spicyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momoboshi/pseuds/momoboshi
Summary: 温もり ; a quality proceeding from feelings of affection or love; warmth.Oneshots between you and the devilishly handsome characters of the otome game, Obey Me!Slow updates.
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Luke (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Simeon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92





	1. LUCIFER ; つかの間の時間 | THE FLEETING OF TIME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon's lifespan is incomparable to a human's. With a stark difference in nearly every aspect, what happens when one falls for the other?
> 
> MC/(Y/N) is gender-neutral.

つかの間の時間 ; TSUKANOMA NO JIKAN | THE FLEETING OF TIME

Lucifer was nothing short of doting. 

It was an unprecedented thing, and neither of the brothers--or even Diavolo himself--knew someone as stoic as him could turn out to be this warm and accompanying towards someone else. Or maybe it wasn't meant to be concealed to anyone in the first place, but rather overlooked, as most things around him went about. 

Upon finishing the day's lessons and tasks, it was the norm for me to wander around the House of Lamentation. I walked alongside the emptiness of the halls, looking at the rows of paintings to the right, and out at the realm from the enormous arched windows to my left. Although I was no longer foreign to all the idiosyncrasies the house held along with the never-ending series of events amongst the brothers, I still found myself tirelessly immersed. 

I gaze outside. One of the things I found charming about the Devildom was Lord Diavolo's kingdom, which rightfully stood the highest above everything else. At a certain time during the day, it looked nothing more than a silhouette, and it'd look like a different, more detailed version of Van Gogh's painting, The Starry Night. Today was no different. 

I felt a pair of gloved hands snake around my waist. "Why, hello there."

" _Lucifer,_ " I said, slightly dazed since he seemed to appear out of nowhere. But then again, he was always like that, to begin with. "It's you."

He planted a soft kiss on my cheek and pulled me closer to him. "Of course it's me. Who else would touch you like this, hm?"

"Absolutely nobody. You're scary when you're angry," I smiled.

"Naturally," replied Lucifer. "What are you looking at? Is there a spectacle happening up in the sky that got you so distracted you didn't notice me coming?"

"I was just looking outside. It reminds me of a really pretty painting I once saw."

"In the human world?" he asked.

I nod. "Maybe you know him? His name is Vincent Van Gogh. One of my favorite artists."

He thought of it for a while. "I think I've heard it once or twice before when Diavolo and I were on the topic of paintings."

A moment of silence passed by us two for a long, long time. I watched the kingdom's bustling life, which more or less looked like an ant farm at this distance and height. It's hard to believe the underworld could be this endearing to look at. Lovely sounds of creaking and howling winds colored the uncertain atmosphere, and Lucifer's hands remained on my waist, slowly warming it up from his touch. He'd become so feely with me, almost like how a puppy would want to be with its owner all the time as if his life depended on it like a respirator. This too, was a surprising piece of information I came to learn about him and probably my favorite so far.

Finally breaking the stillness of the air, Lucifer leaned in and asked, "Would it make you happy if I got you the painting you were referring to?"

"Why would you do that?" Surprised, I turn around.

"You seem bothered," he answered, sighing. "And as your lover, I must make you happy."

Despite hearing flattering things from him all the time, it was unbelievably hard to get used to the potent butterflies it carried. "Rather than bothered, I'd say I'm curious about something."

"What is it, then?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. I wasn't sure how he'd react, and I didn't want to upset him--not when he's enjoying himself, at least. I looked back at the kingdom. "Nothing. It's kinda stupid."

"After all the stunts you pulled before, I think it's safe to say I'm immune to your stupidity already, don't you think? My little devil." 

"But you're having a good day," I leaned against his chest; I could hear his heart beating faintly inside. "I don't wanna ruin it."

"Feelings are fickle, (Y/N). If I somehow get upset, I will get over it soon enough. So, tell me? Or do I have to be more assertive to know just what's going on in that mind of yours?"

In the end, I couldn't argue with him, much less resist. I sighed. "You insisted this, okay?"

"Yes, yes."

"Will you cast a spell on me so I can live longer?"

There was a confused look on his face. "What?"

"Y'know, since I'm a human and we only live for around a hundred years and all. Definitely shorter than yours and the others."

"That's... an interesting question."

I can't tell what he's thinking from his expression. Was he upset? Suddenly, I can't hear the wind or the creaking of the house. The buzz of everything else had died down into an ambiguous silence. He was looking outside now, too, thinking. Lucifer's face had changed, and it wasn't in a subtle way. His lips were unsmiling, and his eyes serious, peering from somewhere in him that I don't know of. His gaze was cast away from me. 

"I'm not a fan of affection initially," he suddenly said. "I think it is suffocating in a way, and it makes you think that you need to return the favor for letting you see someone be openly vulnerable."

_Where is he getting at?_

"But I keep touching you. Have you noticed?" he's smiling now. "My hands have never left your waist. And we both know we've done more than that. This is the first time I've touched someone so much and liked it."

My heart started to beat faster. "Really?"

"Yes. I like the feeling of your skin. It makes me feel at ease, and your warmth makes every part of my body flutter with a flurry of emotions I've forgotten over the centuries. I want to remember every part of you: the sensation of your skin, your hair; your homely smell; the sound of your voice, needy or not; your breathing and your laugh; even the sound of your footsteps, I want to burn and seal it in my heart and head, that way I can never forget. At this rate, I'm no better than Levi with my desires and romance, and that is saying something. Do you understand?" 

Lucifer turns me around so that I'm facing him. He's staring at me deeply. His eyes, so beautiful, so depthless and mysterious like an untouched dark abyss. Had I turned away from it, feared the things it could shroud into secrecy, would I have an entirely different life here in the Devildom? Or would fate have to pull different strings and tie them together again? _Would I even stay?_ I'm gradually forgetting the things back in the human world-- _my world._ I don't know if I should let myself get pulled in deeper by Lucifer, or go back.

But I can't imagine living without him anymore. I already chose to stay. I've grown accustomed to a life without the sun ever rising and got spoiled with so many friends and a lover so amazing I think I'd go crazy without them no longer. Or was this what I was supposed to feel? Between my feelings and nature, which one was real?

"You're overthinking again, my little devil," he caresses my cheek and brushes his thumb across my lip before leaning in, ultimately closing the distance between us. The fabric of his gloves holding my face ignite a familiar feeling. There's a smile on his face when he pulls away.

"Was I such a good kisser to have you standing on your toes?"

I look away, embarrassed. "It's your fault for being so tall."

He holds me again, but gentler this time, as if he knew and was easing the mixed feelings stirring inside of me. "I will not be cruel to my lover. I won't cast a spell on you and agonize you with the curse of immortality. You'll simply live by my side and pass away naturally when the time comes, like how you were supposed to."

I frowned, searched for an answer. "I don't understand. Wouldn't you want me to be with you forever?"

"Of course I do," said Lucifer. "More than anything, I'd like to love you longer than forever. But it's wrong to keep you alive just for that. I took your life away from the human world, where you belong. I don't want to be any more of a selfish demon than I already am, even if it hurts me. Even the longest, most wonderful books have an end to it. I want it to be the same for you."

"But a hundred years is..." I trail off. It all seemed unfair, but to who? Both were equally painful. A tear falls on my cheek. "Won't you be lonely?"

"Do not worry about me. Even when it's been ten thousand years, I will continue to love you. I will visit your grave every day, bring flowers, and tell stories about everything and anything. In fact, I might never fall in love again, because even by then I would still be caught up in you."

Another kiss. Another warm stare from such beautiful eyes, all the riches from all the worlds could never, ever, compare. "You made your decision to stay here, and now I will make mine. So please, stay by me until it's time. I will give you a million years' worth of love if I have to."

"But I'll get ugly when I turn older."

Lucifer shook his head dismissively. "Nonsense. I've seen worse things, such as Mammon and the rest of my brothers."

The tears keep flowing even as I try to smile. I place a hand on his chest. "When you say it like that, how can I refuse?"

"You love me too much to do so." he says, chuckling. We kissed again.

I could only laugh at his words, because they were nothing but the truth.

**_Fin._ **


	2. SATAN ; 俺の片思い恋人に | TO MY ONE-SIDED LOVER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satan frequents the piano and plays the same song over and over, the lyrics a mystery to everyone. 
> 
> MC/(Y/N) is gender-neutral.

俺の片思い恋人に ; ORE NO KATAOMOI KOIBITO NI | TO MY ONE-SIDED LOVER 

"Hey, Beel?" I look over to the opened fridge, radiating a warm, yellow light from inside. "I keep hearing a piano at night."

Beelzebub's head pops up from behind the door, cheeks full of food. "A piano?"

"Yeah. Do you hear it too?"

He looks at the ceiling for a while, as if he was skimming through the contents of his head. "Hmm... no," he said. "Isn't it just your imagination?"

I'd like to think it was my imagination, but it wasn't, and that was for sure. I sigh, leaning back on one of the chairs in the kitchen. It was the dead of night, and I was out for a glass of water when I stumbled upon Beelzebub, doing his rounds around the house half-asleep, presumably looking for something to eat. I must've woke him up when I called his name, and the hours that followed after were spent in each other's company. But it was mostly me who asked and said things, and he would shortly answer with a full mouth.

I watched him greedily help himself with the leftovers. "You're going to get heartburn at that rate."

"I don't."

More eating sounds. I look out the small, rectangular window on one of the walls. The stars look like someone spilled a salt shaker across a dark cloth.

The thing was, I started hearing someone playing the piano recently. At first, I thought listening to all those classic tracks with Lucifer had finally rubbed off on me, and that one of the songs there were playing in my head. But when a few more nights passed and it hasn't gone away despite being forced to listen to a hundred Vocaloid songs with Levi, I knew it was more than a silly Last Song Syndrome.

Rather than finding it creepy, I enjoyed listening to what little I could make out from my room's distance. I silently waited for the notes to echo across the empty halls. Very much like a whining ghost, it was thin and faint, almost inaudible if you don't pay enough attention. Without meaning to, I began looking forward to it, busying and patiently waiting like a sea captain's wife. I found myself staying up later than usual and frequented looking at clocks, suddenly aware of the minutes that idly passed by. And like always, I was strangely left feeling bereft of something when it ended. Perhaps this was the remains of the song's reverberating ache. I'd gotten so used to it that once the music had come to a close, the rest of the night felt uncannily quiet.

"(Y/N)," Beelzebub glances at me from the doorway. It was only then when I noticed his striped pajamas. "I'm going back to bed."

"Oh, okay. Good night then."

"I ate everything in the fridge," he added, matter-of-factly.

I acknowledged his predicted statement with a nod. Beelzebub's thundering footsteps slowly fade away, and I was left alone.

I went back to my room and tended to my own businesses, but I still kept an open ear for it. I left the door slightly ajar as to let the sound in better. 

When it starts, my shoulders fall from tension. I dropped everything I was doing and sat in the darkness of my room, my head already wafting in a pleasant daze. _Ahh, there it is again,_ I thought when the butterflies under my skin started to flutter all over my body. Like always, and I felt the oddest urge to cry. It sounded so lonely and isolated, like a princess locked away someplace far-flung, singing to her heart's content with an audience beyond her reach. The hopelessness of shouting into a void.

The very same thoughts and questions filled my head: who was this pianist, and what was the story behind such a pining song? If I could hear it, then it must be somewhere around the house, and I could try looking. But for some reason, I never really did. Funnily enough, it's as if there was an underlying motive to it. Was it because I didn't want my fantasies ruined when I see them, the face behind the sound? This image I have in my head, of a certain person, was brittle. Am I afraid that it'd break? I've grown to like it so much that the idealizations running rampant through my head refused to accept anything other than itself.

But then this ache I feel... if I find out who it was, will it go away? Just like that? Was I just overthinking everything? Maybe my feelings will find the closure that way, even if it turns out to be disappointing.

The song had come to a stop. The silence that followed after was deafening. I pull the covers to my head and try my best to sleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day at RAD, Beelzebub came over to me to say something. But that wasn't before he proposed a compromise for swiping my lunch. Even though it ticked me off, I couldn't really stay mad for long at him. "You really have the heart of an angel, (Y/N). Really."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied. "You were going to say something? What is it?"

It took him a few moments before he could answer. "Remember the thing you asked me? If I can hear the piano?"

I nodded. 

"Well, I heard it last night."

"Really?"

"Yep, I guess it wasn't your imagination after all," Beelzebub said. "It has a nice tune to it. Like, if it was food, I'd eat it in 2 seconds flat."

I smiled. "Nice analogy."

Belphegor appears out of nowhere and sits over to my right. He was doing his signature yawn and rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. "Do you mind if join in? Keep me awake, (Y/N), or else I'll sleep through the rest of the day." 

"You look tired, Belphie," Beelzebub looks at him with a small, concerned frown. "You should've just stayed at home."

"Are you insane? I don't want to end up like Mammon."

I could almost hear Mammon say his conventional _'You should show your older bro some respect!'_ line, which tugged a smile on my lips. "Belphie, since you and Beel share a room, do you also hear it?"

His expression darkened. "That _damned_ thing keeps me up at night. It's so noisy, I can hardly sleep."

Belphegor had always struck me as someone who found it easier to sleep with the aid of music. I guess he really does value his peace and quiet. "Does anyone between you guys play the piano?" I asked.

"Lucifer for sure," Beelzebub replied. "Satan, and maybe even Levi knows as well. But other than them, no one can play, I think."

"Speak of the devil," Belphegor was facing the door at the back of the room, where a couple of demons were leisurely making their way in for the next class. "He's here."

"I didn't know he was taking the same class as us," Beelzebub commented, but the look on his face couldn't care any less.

Satan is neat-looking as always. His hair was in its usual do, and he was carrying a couple of books in one arm. Once he spotted the three of us, he makes a beeline for the nearest unoccupied seat--the one in front of Beelzebub--brushing past the other rows and casually ignoring the brave calls for his name by a few demons. We grinned at each other when he sits down. "Hello, (Y/N)," then he looks at the twins. "And to you two."

"Hi." Beelzebub says dryly.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting something," he said and leaned to place a book on my desk. It was one of the novels I brought with me from the human world, _The Fault in Our Stars._ "Your book, I finished it. It was very nice, much different from the ones here in the Devildom."

"I'm glad you liked it then," I said. "I thought it wouldn't suit your tastes, but I guess I worried for nothing."

A faint color of rose tinged his cheeks. "If you don't mind and have the time, we can discuss it later."

It was no surprise that I found his flustered state cute, even though he tries to hide it and maintain his composure; there was nothing more pleasing to look at than a headstrong man softening up to the things he was genuinely interested in. When it came to books, he's not so cold, so it often led to warm conversations--one that felt painfully similar to an old woman's teatime with her neighborhood friends. "That sounds great."

"Ahh," Belphegor groaned. "So this is what it feels like to be a third-wheel. And oh--Satan, do you have any idea who plays the piano late at night?"

Satan looks over his shoulder. "Someone's playing the piano at night?"

Beelzebub nodded. "You don't hear it?"

He shook his head in response. "It's always quiet as far as I know."

"You're lucky. How much do I have to pay you to switch rooms with me?"

Satan shifted in his seat so he was facing me better, blatantly disregarding Belphegor. "That's a little odd, isn't it? Why play the piano at a time like that?"

"Oi, stop ignoring me."

I shrugged. "No idea. But I have to admit, it sounds really nice. It's been stuck in my head for some time now."

"Are you a fan of classical music, (Y/N)?" asked Satan with a small, closed smile.

"I recently got into it, thanks to Lucifer."

His brows slightly knitted at the mention of Lucifer's name like a stimulus, but it disappeared before anyone could point it out. "Oh, right. He's a fan too."

The day went on as usual.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By dinner it'd been common knowledge between everyone about the mysterious pianist in the house, which evoked a diverse set of responses from each of the brothers.

"What the hell?" Mammon set down his fork on the table, his nose scrunched up in apprehension. "That's really fuckin' creepy. You should be careful, (Y/N)." 

Asmodeus shook his head. "Not creepy at all! A pianist, playing songs in the middle of the night as a personal ode to their lover?" he cupped a cheek and leaned forward on the table, sighing dreamily to himself, "sounds _soooo_ romantic."

"It sounds like an anime plot to me," said Leviathan. "There's also this really cute violinist and she's totally the classy but cute type of waifu. So they perform a bunch of popular classic compositions together, but then the twist was the girl was actually suffering from--"

"I've been having the same circumstances as well," Lucifer interjected, ultimately shutting Leviathan up and setting down his glass on the table, "but if you ask me, it needs a little more practice. I wouldn't pay much attention to it; some parts are just dreadful to listen to."

Satan, who's been unusually indifferent towards the conversation despite being intrigued just earlier, stood up and won over the house's silence. "It'd be nice if you were a little more considerate to people, but of course, it'd be funny to expect it from you," he eyed Lucifer, his face blank, barely disclosing any hint of his feelings. "I'll be taking my leave." He smoothed out his shirt, quietly pushed the chair back in its initial spot before supper took place, and sauntered away from the dining hall, the clip-clopping footsteps as he walked echoing freely along the walls. 

When the event had fully settled between the brothers, I decided to speak up. I turn to Lucifer. "That was a little..." 

"Crass?" he posited. "What's more intriguing than my said rudeness is the fact that he seemed to be a little _too_ affected by it, don't you think?"

"Satan and Lucifer's been hating each other's guts for much longer than you thought, (Y/N)," Asmodeus added, reassuring me with a smile. "You know better than that."

Leviathan nodded, waving his fork in the air as he spoke. "Yeah, just leave him be. If you boil it down to the bare minimum, it's just plain, old, Oedipus complex."

I did think it was strange, Satan's reaction. Even if he held a burning hatred for Lucifer, it was weird for him to snap on behalf of someone he didn't even know, and on top of that, _walking away._

Or maybe he _does?_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tonight, I decided to try and go to the music room to get a glimpse. Just a harmless look at their face. Somehow, what happened earlier urged me to give it a shot, partially on behalf of Satan's feelings and of mine as a 'fan,' if my means were even considered. I walked past the kitchen--where notably, there was no Beelzebub to be found--and into the main hall, carpeted with a long, red rug with gold trimmings that stretched out until the other side, which seemed like was miles away. Illuminated by the gentle glare of pallid light from outside the arched windows, the entrance I could make out was as big as my thumb. I had plenty of time pushing through my cold feet, and when I finally walked through the double doors, it felt like they were enclosed in a crystal of clumped ice.

I took the liberty of walking inside and pottering about the room before I circled around the grand piano sitting at the center of another Persian rug. My heart was beating wildly--someone was just sitting on the chair to it last night and playing. The queasy feeling budding in my stomach reminded me of the nervous excitement you'd feel when you're next in line at your favorite artist's meet and greet, and you had absolutely no idea what you wanted to do or say to them even though you'd just indulged a year's worth of fan fantasies last night. I naturally had no idea or anything of the sort about this one-sided rendezvous I'm doing, since it was more of an impulsive decision rather than a well-thought-out plan, which was an idiotic move no matter which way you look at it.

"Oi, what are you doing here?" a stern voice demanded, seemingly out of nowhere.

My heart plummeted down to my stomach. The lights flicked open, and there was Satan, standing by the door.

"Hey..." I mumbled, taking his appearance in mind. He was wearing loose clothes; something I have never seen him wear, and his usual hairdo was down to limp, blonde tufts that messily framed his face. "Did you get out of bed or something?"

As if his signature scowl wasn't enough, he raised a brow and placed a hand on his hip. "Ha? What are you going on about?"

"Nothing..?"

Satan walked over to the piano and took a seat on the stool and leafed through a pocket notebook. "So? What brings you here at this hour? Are you looking to get in trouble with Lucifer?"

"I could ask the same to you, too," I countered. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Obviously, I'm here to play." His attention remained glued to the notebook, but he looked a little uneasy, possibly because of me.

_Wait._

"So _you're_ the one playing at night?" I asked, pointing a finger at him as I took a small, hopeful step forward.

He busily flicks a couple of pages. "Yeah, that's me you're hearing every night."

I don't know if I should show my relief. It all connects now--why he seemed so agitated with Lucifer's criticism, why he barely said anything back then, and why it's like he's been visibly out of it these weeks. Because the pianist was _him._

I let out a small laugh, at a loss for words. "I... wow."

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult?" Satan's eyes narrowed at me.

"A compliment," I quickly said, grinning. "It's just that--I really, really, really like your song. I listen to it every night."

He turns away from me and props the notebook against the piano, just above the keyboard, and begins to act out his little wont. He starts to stretch and pop his knuckles, wiggling them in a way that reminded me of a long fin. and I silently anticipated his next move. I was oddly intrigued by this, even though it was just about what every musician would do as a warm-up. Of course, I'd be curious--this was a practice he does before performing _that_ song. It was like a sacred ritual. When he notices me standing behind him, he lets out a big sigh and shakes his head. "Hey, go sit somewhere or something before I change my mind."

"Oh, right," I scurry to the nearest armchair, one that was next to a cello.

"Are you going to play the same thing-- _song_?"

"Of course," he snapped. "Now, keep quiet."

I did what I was told and clasped my hands together on my lap, feeling the cold creeping under my thin clothes. My heart was still racing despite snuggling comfortably against the decorative pillows; I knew I was nervous and this sort of thing would get me a lecture from Lucifer if he finds out, but even so, it was also strangely exciting. Since finding out that Satan was behind it all along, I couldn't seem to get my eyes off him even more, like some sort of tantalizing hex. He places his fingers above the keys for a few seconds and went completely still.

The hairs on my arms and neck stand up straight when he plays out the beginning notes. I've never heard it this clearly before. The butterflies that used to gently flutter under my skin and around my body speed through my veins like a rush, exhilarating me.

 _"Gently touching the days passing by..."_ he sang, not too loud, but not so soft that I couldn't hear it, either. Just enough to accompany his song.

Hearing it up close--just a few feet away from him--makes me swallow a sharp breath, and pushes out a tear. It's achingly beautiful. More than it already was. He's as pretty as a picture, singing and tinkling away gently at the piano, his eyes and fingers in sync as they moved right and left across the keyboard.

_"I want to tell you not to forget me / Words like _'I love you'_ / I've been seeing it in books a lot, but / I didn't know I was so poor at saying it out loud before I met you / So poor that even my true heart / stolen by you before I noticed / is covered up."_

I listened. I listened and listened, and I listened, hung with each line he crooned, sounding more and more intimate as the song progresses. He was in love with someone, and this was his song to them. A personal ode, written not by his head, but his heart. 

_"I thought that there were no more scenery or feelings that I didn't know / The world dyed with your color / I want to protect every last bit of it,"_ the song was coming to a close. When I got a glimpse of his face, it looked completely different from when he was just starting. It seemed more... serious. Dismal. _"This is a song for my beloved one."_

His hands fall to his lap, and he sits there, quietly, looking small and frail. He then turns to me and smiles. "There you have it. My song."

I gently clapped my hands. I was happy to hear it, but now I felt bothered after hearing those lyrics. They were truly beautiful. So beautiful, for a moment, I wished it was written _for me._ "It was wonderful, Satan."

He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it a bit. He sighed deeply. "Lucifer seems to think otherwise."

"Since when did you care about what he had to say?" I raised a brow. He looks at me as if I'd just said something stupid, then laughs.

He closed his eyes. "Yeah, you're right."

We were silent for a while, but I was consumed by my thoughts. After fiddling with my fingers, trying to get rid of the cloudy feelings brewing inside of me, and gathering the courage to say something, I finally ask, "Who's it for? Your song."

"Who's it for, you ask?" he says, and I nod. He looks at his notebook. "For... someone I just met. That's all you need to know."

His reserved answer stirred everything inside of me more. Maybe I was just not that close to him. But then again, with the time we spent together, talking, reading, and sharing books with each other in the library, I expected it to mean a little more than an acquaintanceship. Though I guess not. I smiled. "Whoever that person is, to have a pretty song written about them, they're very lucky," I said. "I hope it works out for you."

Satan frowned. "What?"

"What?" I asked back.

"Are you serious right now, (Y/N)?" he stands up from the stool.

I was confused. "What are you talking about?" but this seemed to make him angrier.

"Are you doing this on purpose? Are you playing with me? Is that it?"

Now I was genuinely clueless. I was frowning just as much as he was at this point. "I think I should be asking _you_ what you're talking about."

He holds my wrist, pulling me up from my seat and closer to him. His clothes smelled of books and jasmine, his skin like a homey blanket. I look up at his face. "I would _never_ play for anyone else. Not for my brothers, not for Lord Diavolo, not for dusty books, not for cats. You are the most wonderful person I have ever met. So wonderful that I just had to make a song about you. What do you think does that say?"

"You... like me?" I guessed. Saying it out loud sounded just as ridiculous as thinking it in my head. "Is that it?"

He loosens his grip from my wrist and goes back to the stool. I try to soothe out the dull pain coming from the faint, red marks of where his fingers were just clamping down on. "Yes. I do," he admitted. "I like you. And, I'm sorry for hurting you. You were just so dense that it ticked me off."

I shook my head. "It's alright. With what you just said... I don't think it matters anymore."

He taps against the small space next to him. "Sit here."

Reluctantly, I made my way towards him. I wasn't sure if we were going to fit, but I sat down nonetheless, taking in the pleasant smell from him with how close we were to each other. I've never been this near with Satan--there was always a distance, and I always had the urge to narrow it down lingering at the back of my head.

"I'm feeling very nervous right now if I were honest," he told me, his voice quiet and almost shy. "I've always wanted to be like this with you. But I still haven't acted on my feelings yet at those times, so I tried to make excuses to get close."

 _Was that why he was always wanting to borrow books from me?_ I thought. "I could say the same." I looked at him.

It was a strange sight, a nervous Satan. He was always so composed and well-grounded, it's easy to forget that he can be like this, too. It was as if someone had dabbed on red tint all over his face; this was the most flustered state I've seen him in. Half-thinking and the other acting out of my desires, I held his chin, turned it to me, and rose for a gentle kiss. His lips were cold at first, but it slowly warmed up with mine. He was quick to catch up and traced his fingers along the small of my neck, pulling me in deeper. I grabbed onto his shoulder as I let myself sink in him.

When we pull away from each other, the atmosphere felt lighter and easier to breathe in, as if kissing took away the remaining tension between us. We look out at the large stained glass window in front of us and kept each other company with comfortable silence. Even though there was still a lot of things that needed to be said, each other's presence was the only thing we needed for now.

"What do you think of the lyrics?" Satan asked. His tone had quieted down to a mere whisper that only I can hear. Blue light from one of the panes danced on his cheek. "Should I change a few things?"

I rested my head against his shoulder. "It's perfect. Trust me."

_**Fin.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I'm not a fan of this, but you gotta do what you can to get rid of a 5-month writer's block. :') I say it feels strained and forced, but I have to put embarrassing shit out there so I can reread this when I'm older, and cringe. 
> 
> Thinking of writing everything in 2nd POV??? Idk
> 
> I hope you liked it (?), and I hope you also tune in for more smexy, hoo-ha demons I'll write for in the future.


	3. LEVIATHAN ; いいよ？| CAN I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just have to be bold and come forward with your own feelings, especially if it's for Leviathan. 
> 
> MC/(Y/N) is gender-neutral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's a little OOC at the end, I guess, but I'd like to believe that's just him letting himself express how he really feels about things.
> 
> kinDA SPICEYYYY???? enjoy
> 
> MC/(Y/N) is gender-neutral.

いいよ？ ; II YO? | CAN I?

Over time, you developed an affinity for dealing with the unpredictable temperaments of demons. Not really knowing what floats their boats and having to constantly walk on eggshells around them to save yourself from getting involved with their high jinks were one thing, but putting up with each of their distinct personalities were another. It was indeed a tiring thing to put up with. You might as well just babysit a whole orphanage.

"Dammit, it's that jackass _DG_Sniper_ again!" Leviathan groaned, vigorously juddering the controller in his hand. He was gripping it so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

You pushed your chair back a little, enough so you can take a peek at him in his mini fits of game rage. If your memory serves you right, this was the seventh time he blew his fuse over the same thing--another player kept on pursuing and killing him, and for a hardcore gamer, that was a pretty big scratch on his pride.

"I swear if he kills me one more time..." he lets out an exasperated sigh, and gets back to gaming, the synth-pop music resuming its annoying upbeat repetition. Hearing it again made you wonder, just why on Earth did you let him camp out in your room, instead of his? But oh, you did like his tentative company; he and his unpredictable mood swings kept your concentration in balance. Whenever he was angry you were reminded to take a break from studying as to not burn yourself out, and when he was quiet you could slip back into your momentum with ease. That doesn't mean it didn't get annoying though, but you didn't really mind.

"ARGHH!"

"What's wrong?" you finally asked.

Leviathan ran a hand through his purple hair, dishevelling it. "It's him again! That DG shitface!"

"If it's frustrating you so much, then why don't you take a break?" you suggested, but your words only flew by his head. He was adjusting the lapel of his headset, bringing the microphone close to his mouth.

"Hey, shithead!" he yelled. "Stop killing me and mess with someone else!"

From the looks of it, DG either killed him again or replied with something that made Leviathan's blood boil even more, because he took off his headset, threw it to the ground followed by his controller, and stormed off from the TV, mouthing "Fuck this shit!" over and over again. You could hear him plopping on your bed, promptly with a loud sigh.

"Levi," you called his name, pulling yourself up from your seat. His purple and orange striped socks peeked from his black jogger pants, which you found surprisingly cute. You half-expected it to be Ruri-chan-themed, with her face printed all over it as a design. You walked towards him, sprawled and cozy amidst your blankets.

"Hey, you good?"

He rubbed his eyes with the balls of his fist, releasing another sigh. "No, I feel so fucking angry," he replied. "That DG keeps on killing me, and I can't go through my levels because of him. And the event's literally about to end today. Why am I so unlucky? I swear someone put a curse on me, and now everything is utter shit."

You had to deal with Leviathan's gloomy phases on a daily basis. Compared to the other brothers, his was a more frequent thing, and you naturally became inclined to handle him and his self-deprecative conclusions, no matter what the cost.

Leviathan sniffled. "I know I'm just some useless, freeloader otaku, but like, doing this is to me is worse than Lucifer banning me from dinner. A loner like me only has games and fictional characters to cope, you know? You understand, right, (Y/N)?"

You nodded. "Yes, yes," you took a seat next to him. "Do you want me to comfort you?"

Reluctantly, he rose from his spot and pointed a finger to your hand. "P-Pat me. On the head," he quietly said. "Please."

You were more than happy to oblige his requests albeit sounding silly. Any normal person wouldn't get this nervous asking for something as simple as a head pat, but this wasn't the case for a 'yucky, disgusting otaku' like Leviathan. He was definitely touch-starved, hence this sort of demeanor, and it was honestly a sad thing to see. You firmly believed that every person, good or not, needed to be shown some love. Then maybe some reassurance of their worth. He most likely had his reasons, and you were willing to ease even just a little of his hardened self-doubts.

"That feels nice..." he mumbled with red cheeks. His eyes were closed, and only then was the weariness of his eyes became evident to you. His eyelids--they were rather wrinkled and dry, most likely from soaking a day's worth of screen radiation. It was amazing how his vision hasn't been ruined yet.

"All better?" you asked, flashing him a small smile. His eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Not really... but you can stop," he twiddled with his purple-polished thumbs, eyes cast down to the ground. "I mean, that is, if you want to..."

You laughed at his coyness. It was adorable, really, seeing him act like he didn't care about affection when he really does. It makes you want to tease him even more. "You know, Levi, you can just tell me your feelings." 

"W-What? Why?"

"Well, you said I'm your best friend, right?" you cooed. "Then do that."

This made him even more flustered. The reddishness that dusted both his cheeks were slowly creeping up to his ears, then to the tip of his nose. "That sort of thing's only found in anime, y-you know? Like, it's totally impossible to come true, especially for a yucky, d-disgusting otaku like--"

"I don't care." you calmly stared into his eyes, and it seemed to hush his pessimistic feelings before it could bubble up the surface any further. It was the truth--you couldn't care less about how he thought of himself, because you saw him differently. 

He was just as hard to deal with as Mammon and as moody and glum as Belphegor, but he was also very ardent and accompanying when it comes to his passions and interests. The way he was quick to let you into his walls after shutting everyone out and keeping to himself for a long time made you feel as if you were on a different scale of special to him. Someone exclusive, like a chosen one. And, at some point, you began to think the way he would sometimes sit down in his room, idly watching the life inside of his aquarium walls go by around him with a faraway, longing look, his clothes, skin, and even the whites of his eyes, enveloped by the gentle, turquoise light, was beautiful.

"How could you _not_ care?" he muttered. "Before you, I hung out with a fish."

He was completely engulfed in his own whirlpool of self-hate like a tiny fish, swirling in circles, seemingly beyond help. That didn't mean no one could save him anymore, though; just someone who'd be brave to get close enough and scoop him out. If he was the helpless character trope in an anime or video game, then you have the chance to be the hero.

"Levi," you placed a hand on his knee, his eyes gluing to it instantly. You scoot a little closer to him, which gave him ample ideas and possibilities of what may or may not escalate within a matter of moments, maybe even seconds.

His body went rigid just at his own thoughts running freely inside his head. "W-What are you doing?"

You grinned. "I thought you were a fan of dating sims."

"I am!" he retorted, back on edge again. "It's just that this is such an unrealistic situation to be in, and it's totally one of those cliche moments and I swear, one of the dialogue choices will always lead to the bad ending, and I--"

Another one of his untimely rants. Before he could say another pointless word, you grab a hold of his cardigan jacket, the month-old, unwashed fabric bunching up under your grasp as you tighten your grip and tugged on it hard, keeling him towards your direction. But just before he could really, completely fall facefirst on the bed, you caught him--with your lips, snatching a firm and forceful kiss. Your blood flutters when you hear a small squeak from his closed mouth.

He, too, starts kissing back. Surprised at the unexpected response, you pry him off of you, already panting from how hard your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I--Wha?" you try to say, visibly at a loss. "Wait."

But Leviathan was the one who couldn't for once. He leaned forward and to you, wasting not even a single breath in closing the space between. You were the one who was getting pushed down under this time, making a conscious effort to stay afloat and not get swept away by the change of tides.

Letting go of the jacket, you grappled onto both his cheeks, trying to hold him in place as you work your tongue and lips against his even though you didn't need to; his own hands managed to snake up your upper arm, his motions equalling the earnest intentions that'd been unknowingly settling around the two of you, like perfume scattering all over and lingering long in the air. You could feel his fingers wrapping and holding you back through the sleeves of your clothes.

He breaks the kiss, his face completely serious. Not a trace of hesitation, nor shyness. Quietly, he says, "Please. You're going to lead me on if you keep on doing this to me, (Y/N)."

So that was how it looked like to him. A play. "But I'm not?"

His grip on your arms tightened a little. "You don't have to be _this_ mean to me," he said, a pained look on his face. His tone whiny and pleading, almost as if he was begging you for something. "Just tell me the truth. Then we can just pretend that this didn't happen. That nothing did."

It's like you were looking at an alter ego, another side to him that he'd sealed away. It was true that you showed him motives--at times you would sit a little too close to him and lean on his shoulder as he went about his business. You incessantly rambled on about your day in a tone that you'd only hear from a lover; so tired, breathy, tender, and sweet, like amber honey slowly trickling down a dipper and onto the dips of his collarbones. You coated even the vilest things with sugar, and it seeped into the pores of his skin. Every so often you'd camp out in his room as he did, and your fingers would always find a way to his hair like an invisible beeline. All of it sent shivers to him--you knew it did. You just never said anything else.

You let out a sharp exhale from your nose, hands falling to your lap. Your patience was running thin. "I _am_ telling you the truth, Levi," you say. "You don't believe me?"

He looked away. "How can I? You have to be insane to like someone like me."

Another rush of frustration and adrenaline brings you to push him down and pin him on the bed. You mount him, securing his waist with the hold of either side of your thighs. Looming over, you can see how far his flush had gone. His neck burned of the color rose, possibly traveling further down under his clothes. You made a mental note not to get carried away, and instead, take your sweet time with him. After all, you've wanted to see him in this position and angle for so long.

"Yes, maybe I am insane," you take both of his hands and position them on both your hips, causing the blush on his face to run darker on his skin. "Who isn't, when the person they like is so close, yet so far away?"

You indulged in the fact that he didn't know where to look: his hands, grabbing you, or your face, hovering just above his with an expression he's never seen you wear before. Half-lidded eyes, slightly agape lips, messy hair, and red-stained cheeks--you looked just like how you did in all of his dreams, though it differed on a few circumstances. Seeing it up close and in person was riling a lot of things inside him, and he wasn't sure how long he could hold out.

"I feel special because of you," you admitted. "It's like you chose me or something. Who else can get this close to you? I think you're beautiful and charming and funny and all these nice adjectives, and I don't like it when you say you're otherwise. I know you're probably thinking that no one in this universe wants you, and it makes me want to smack you so hard you'll rethink that and realize that I do." 

"(Y/N)." Leviathan said.

"But I never really came forward with my own feelings too, so you never knew. And I've always been thinking of saying it to you, but I didn't want you to push me away because you think of yourself so low," you continued. "And now here I am, doing this. Now that I've done it and said how I feel... I don't know what to expect anymore." you let out a small sigh, shaking your head. "I'm too gutsy for my own good."

The silence was loud.

"If you call yourself a coward," Leviathan began, chuckling a bit, "then just what am I?"

You could feel it warming up under you. Now it was your turn to be quiet, heart fuming in nervousness and anticipation.

Leviathan shifts you a bit, rubbing against him, his shaky breaths fanning your face. Sometimes he'd use his voice, and it made you weak. The feeling of it evokes a jolt of electricity in your lower abdomen, then crackling up at your sides in wisps of tickling buzzes. You shiver at the rousing sensation slowly firing you up from the tips of your curled toes, and to the thinnest strand of your hair.

"Levi," you breathed, your thoughts incoherent and almost out of reach. "So many. Things. Tell you. Want. Please."

A smug smile tugged on his lips, knowing that he was the one asserting the lead this time. "Hmm?"

"Please. Levi. Tell you. Things. Lots."

"I want to tell you so many things, too," he replied. "Can I?"

You nod, and his hands start to wander under your shirt.

**_Fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my name is Yul, and this is my first work here in Archive of Our Own! Thank you for reading until the end, and I hope you tune in for more in the future.
> 
> These stories are dedicated to my friends, who also play Obey Me! and have pushed and supported me in writing such.


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